


Uninvited

by Foxglove_Fiction



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: First Dates, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic Charms, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Strangefrost, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, ThorBruce Mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxglove_Fiction/pseuds/Foxglove_Fiction
Summary: There’s something you’re often told by those who are unaware of the capabilities of magic: “Some things are simply inevitable.” I don’t think I believed that when I was a child, but I believe it much less now that I’ve become the Sorcerer Supreme. After feeling magic surge through your body, fighting demons and Gods, and visiting dimensions unknown to most it can become very difficult to imagine anything is set in stone.So dealing with Thor trying to tell me that it’s ‘inevitable’ that Loki took a fascination with me is something quite unexpected. The Asgardian is hardly some uninformed dolt - frankly, he’s a lot more intelligent than many give him credit for - so to think he holds on to some concept of inevitability seems absurd. Still, he said what he said.ORHow Loki convinced Stephen to agree to go on a date with him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Twitter, because that's how I function apparently. Inspired by a series of songs, but originally by Alanis Morissette's "Uninvited" thus the title. (The playlist is now 32 songs long, so I'm not gonna get into the rest of the influences.)

**Ֆȶɛքɦɛռ ֆȶʀǟռɢɛ,**  
ֆǟռƈȶʊʍ ֆǟռƈȶօʀʊʍ

 

There’s something you’re often told by those who are unaware of the capabilities of magic: “Some things are simply inevitable.” I don’t think I believed that when I was a child, but I believe it much less now that I’ve become the Sorcerer Supreme. After feeling magic surge through your body, fighting demons and Gods, and visiting dimensions unknown to most it can become very difficult to imagine anything is set in stone.

So dealing with Thor trying to tell me that it’s ‘inevitable’ that Loki took a fascination with me is something quite unexpected. The Asgardian is hardly some uninformed dolt - frankly, he’s a lot more intelligent than many give him credit for - so to think he holds on to some concept of inevitability seems absurd. Still, he said what he said.

“For the love of…” Finishing that sentence doesn't seem like the thing to do, so I let it hang in the air as I try to settle my thoughts.

“Love? No, I don’t think he loves you. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Loki loves _anyone_ but _himself_ , mind you,” the blonde mused in his seat, sipping at his stein of mead. “But he’s certainly fascinated by you in some way.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Thor.” The words come out of my mouth more quickly than I like, and I find myself wishing he hadn’t answered my summons at all. Loki can’t be trusted for anything, he’s proven himself reliably unreliable, and he’s wholly and entirely concerned with his own best interests. All of that is precisely the problem with the situation.

Three days in a row Loki has appeared at the steps of the Sanctum, bearing gifts. The first was an amulet that Loki brought with some excuse about how he felt that such a magical artifact would be of benefit to the realm’s Sorcerer Supreme. I had Wong lock it away, as anyone with a lick of sense would do when presented with a magical artifact from the God of Mischief.

The second was a book, and Loki had offered his own skills to aid in removing a curse from it before it would be of use. Both his offer and the book I rejected. After the day before, it felt suspicious at the very least that he would offer them, and I still don’t quite know how to describe his expression as I closed the door, but really it was shut before I thought to even consider it.

The third gift was altogether a problem. Not the gift itself, I suppose, but the events leading up to it. I had been handling a rather problematic incident earlier in the day, and found myself drained both magically and physically. I hadn’t expected him to make an appearance and already feeling weaker than usual I was prepared for the worst. He’d laughed a half-scoffing laugh and raised his hands in surrender.

“I yield, Stephen, I yield.” I didn’t drop my guard, and that seemed to put him off, but he approached nevertheless. “It isn’t as though you could stop me right now if I was going to hurt you, anyway. Look at you. What a mess.” And he wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t have stopped him. So even when he approached, his hands beginning to radiate with magic, all I could do was grit my teeth and prepare for the worst.

But his face had filled with concern for a moment, and his hands worked some sort of rejuvenation spell. In moments, I felt like nothing had happened at all. It was as though I hadn’t been in battle at all and my body felt abuzz with magical energy. He seemed thoroughly entertained by my surprise, rather mockingly lifting his hands into the air again as though in surrender. “You’re welcome.” Moments later, he’d disappeared.

Now, Thor sits across from me with his mead and an amused expression as he shrugs helplessly at me. “If you say so, I will defer to you on that, Doctor. So you expect that he’s up to something, then, is it?”

“I do my best not to _expect_ **anything** of Loki that isn’t entirely a pain in the ass. So I would say I am _concerned_ by his intentions.” Thor’s laugh indicates his approval as he drinks, and I take the opportunity to have a sip of tea myself.

“That shows incredible wisdom and self-preservation on your part. This amulet you mentioned, did he tell you what it is? What it does?”

I feel a pulsing pain in the side of my head and lift my fingers to press at my temple to try and ease it. “I imagine he told half-truths at best,” I sighed, shaking my head. Telling only part of what he said makes no sense, I’m still thinking over every word carefully for whatever hidden meaning he may have left, because over-analyzing the words out of the Silver Tongue seems like a logical course of action. If absolutely obnoxious. “He called it _Älska_ if I’ve managed to pronounce it correctly,” and to be honest, it’s hard to say if I did.

“Is that so?” Thor’s sudden attentiveness is worrying, and though his expression has me rather hesitant to ask, I open my mouth regardless.

“Ought I be worried?”

The Thunder God is sitting quite straight in his seat, his gaze fixed rather intently on me. It feels as though he’s searching for something and I find my concern growing ever more. His hand covers his mouth before he chuckles a bit to himself, leaning back into his seat properly. “Mmm, that’s a good question, Doctor. Tell me, does it radiate magic of some sort?”

“It only faintly seems to radiate of Asgardian magic - one of many reasons that you struck me as the best person to ask about this whole ordeal. Asgardian magic, and your brother’s involvement…”

“Of course. I can hardly fault your logic, there,” the rather large man stretches in his seat before setting the stein down and standing with a smile. “But I _do_ think this is a situation best handled between you and Loki. I doubt you are in any immediate danger.”

“I’m glad one of us has such confidence.” I _wanted_ Thor to have the answers, here. Talking to Loki typically doesn’t result in any beneficial answers, just more questions and an ever growing feeling of regret. Still, even as I go to see the Asgardian Prince out, another is on the steps posed to knock, before looking between myself and the tall blonde.

“ _Really_ ? You’ve called Thor on me? I haven’t even _done_ anything!” Loki’s expression is rather disgruntled as he crosses his arms, for a moment looking for all the world like a petulant child. Thor’s eyes settle on me for a moment himself, and he shrugs before patting Loki’s shoulder and scooting by him out the door.

“Do behave yourself, Loki.” There’s something in his tone that I can’t place, even as he shuffles off down the road whistling something to himself.

Loki’s expression doesn’t change much, though his arms unfold and his hands rest on his hips. “ _Really_ , Stephen? I mean, I get it if you felt like you needed to ask his permission first, but…”

“His permission? What _are_ you on about, Loki?” And this is exactly the reason that talking to Loki wasn’t my first choice.

“Are you really going to just… talk to me at the door like this? Can we not sit and converse like civilized beings?” It’s a good ten seconds before I step aside, holding the door to let the Trickster in. “Thank you.” There’s a small smile on his face that seems entirely too sincere, and every instinct rejects it as a falsehood all the more for it.  
  
“I thought that after all this you were asking Thor’s permission to engage in a relationship with me, of course.” I shouldn’t have let him in. There is absolutely no way that he didn’t know I would’ve slammed the door in his face if he was still outside it - and the door does, in fact, close with a little more force than I meant it to.

“A _relationship_?”

“Hm. So my attempts to court you have been unsuccessful thus far?” I can barely bring myself to look at him, uncertain how to feel about the God’s words, never mind how to respond. Still, his index finger taps at his chin lightly, seeming thoughtful as his gaze raises to the ceiling. “I brought tokens of affection, trinkets that should have been to your interests, came to your aid… am I missing something? Midgardian courting rituals are so complicated.”

“What is it that you want from me, _exactly_?” seems like the only logical question to ask, and a long-suffering sigh is my reward.

“This will all be so much more simple if you accept that I’m telling the truth,” Loki looks at me, his body language open, every sign that would normally indicate honesty in another being present. “But you’re too clever for that, aren’t you?” The question is rhetorical, and his expression flickers for a moment, before he shakes his head. “Alright, very well, why don’t you go collect _Älska_? I told you it might be of use to you.”

I’m already expecting some kind of trick, which is only one reason that I turn away to collect the amulet. A moment to collect _myself_ is what I really need. Whatever it is that Loki has in store, between his words and Thor’s distinct lack of concern, I’m finding the whole matter rather unsettling.

Taking his words in earnest seems like the worst idea, and I’m not entirely sure if I should be _flattered_ by the notion if Loki _is_ being honest. Of course, not being certain if I _should_ be flattered changes nothing about the fact that the thought _is_ flattering. Undoing the enchantment locking _Älska_ in place, I find myself flipping it over in my hands to give it a once over as I make my way back to the sitting room, at an absolute loss as to how this situation is going to end.

That’s one of the things I like least about Loki - the variables are always in flux. Life is already in flux far too much for my liking, and then the embodiment of chaos waltzes in and there goes the neighborhood. And here I am getting ahead of myself. Why?

I descend the stairs, catching sight of Loki looking bored in a seat, before he notices my return. “Ah, so kind of you to grace me with your presence again. I was beginning to think you'd left me to my own devices!”

“As though I'd ever do such a thing,” especially with him in the Sanctum. There remain far too many things here that would be catastrophic in Loki's hands, which is one of my major concerns about his presence here.

“So dramatic, Stephen,” the raven haired male chimes, stretching a little in his seat and watching me as I reach the landing, my hand curled around _Älska_ rather tightly. “Come along, then. Let's get this done, shall we? This isn't exactly the part I'm excited for, to be frank.”

My hand tightens for a moment around the locket while I take a seat across from the mischief deity. “What _are_ you up to, Loki?”

It wasn't until that moment that I felt it, a surge of magic through my hand, and my gaze drops to the amulet as strange tendrils of white light began to move from the amulet towards the other man. Loki's gaze is similarly fixed on the light for a moment, his nose wrinkling rather cutely in distaste as it wraps around his wrist.

“Up to…” he echos for a moment with a sigh. “I knew you weren't going to believe me if I just came and told you the truth. No one does. Even Thor needs convincing. But I tried to tell you anyway.” He lifts his arm to show the band of light there. “The rune inside of _Älska_ happens to be a truth charm, Stephen. I made it quite specifically for you because I figured that you wouldn't believe me if I tried to tell you I quite fancy you.”

A rune? That explains the light, and how light the touch of magic in it felt. Small, single purpose artifacts like these aren't exactly overly powerful, and yet the magic is Asgardian - there's no reason it shouldn't affect Loki. So I'm back to having to consider the possibility that Loki is expressing some kind of genuine affection. Or trying to. But even this period of silence seems unsettling for him.

“You're not going to say anything?” I can't bring myself to look at him. I'm not sure what my face is doing as I'm settling these thoughts in my head, but I hardly want _him_ drawing conclusions from them.

“Am I supposed to say something?” My vocal composure is in check, anyway, and my gaze is focused on the light from the locket.

“Are… you're for real, aren't you? Are you Aro? Did I miss something?”

“ _That's_ your first assumption?” I'm sure my disbelief is clear as I turn to face him, though Loki's face seems entirely perplexed as well. “The reasons for my lack of response to advances from Loki, God of Mischief, are most sensibly cleared away in your head as a lack of romantic attraction to _anyone_? Your arrogance is showing - it’s not a good look.”

Emerald eyes stare widely at me for a moment, before the other stands, brushing a couple black strands behind an ear, his gaze settling on the white light around his wrist. “Look, I _am_ making an effort lately to not simply _assume_ that everyone is attracted to me, but I can be everything! Perhaps not today, but what might I be tomorrow? Change is in my nature.” He - she? - makes a display of this with a change of form that occurs nearly imperceptibly. “See? Man. Woman. I’m swearing off doing the horse thing, again, though, if I’m being perfectly honestly… which I am.” She raises her wrist to look at the band of light again, and for a moment I rub at my face. How can anyone be so aggravatingly confident?

“Have you simply forgotten that _stability_ is often appreciated by the masses? Particularly with regards to their relationships?” Of course she would be so cocky. There’s a look in her eyes that I’m trying to avoid, an absolute sparkling pool of mischief alight there that has every sign of welcome. I know the invitation is for me; I also know better than to accept the invitation.

“Mmm but you don't strike me as someone who seeks their kind of stability, Stephen. Look at you. A trained, disciplined Sorcerer who has been pursuing life-changing operation after life-changing operation before even knowing how to harness the magic _beyond_ that beautiful brain of his, rising from the ashes again and again, reinventing himself each time as something greater - something more than what he once was - each time becoming more and more complex, more unique, more beautiful, and you would settle for some mundane high rise that will raise you no higher? Or do you mean to live here forever?”

She looks rather fascinated as she slowly spins on her foot, gesturing to the Sanctum around us with both hands. “Whom would you find to stay in this kind of environment happily with the expectation of stability, given what you know of magic and the monsters you hide in the cupboards? Ah, dear me, I've waxed poetic thinking of how perfectly you balance chaos and order in your existence.”

“The vote of confidence is ever so appreciated.” It isn’t. I hate that I’ve thought all of these exact same things before - about stability, of course. Not about myself. Frankly her - _his_ again, apparently - insights into my behavior aren’t exactly the most familiar. Often enough it’s observed that I work in such an orderly way that stability is precisely what I seek, and I am left to question my own motivations. Typically one hears of themselves from others who are friends, but to have someone like Loki being made to speak the truth - potentially his own perceived truth, at least - and saying all of that? A _God_ saying such things?

“I have to keep your ego in check _somehow_ you know,” the other chirps as he perches on the arm of the chair he’d been sitting on before, speaking as though he could read my thoughts. My gaze settles sharply back on him.

“Why ought that be _your_ responsibility?” Before I can ask more, he draws himself up to his feet again in clear excitement at the question.

“Well for one thing we both know that when it comes to magic no one here presents the same challenge to you that I do.”

“Wanda is an amazing magician in her own right--”

“Oh please, the _Witch_ harnesses pure chaos and has no notion of how to control it. Raw power, even if we were to say hers outstripped mine, is not sufficient to be a challenge for you to focus on unless it’s a matter of repairing the damage she causes. If _power_ were enough, Dormammu - oh you thought I didn’t know? Adorable. - would have been more of a challenge for you. And no, you dying repeatedly doesn’t count, really, that’s a Wednesday for me.”

Stream of consciousness, there he stands, talking, looking down at me with a grin that speaks of some kind of joke that I’m missing. My gaze remains fixed on him well enough that the change of lighting on his face caught my attention. My eyes turn to the amulet I’ve been holding and watch as the light further fades.

“Starting to trust me a little, huh? That’s encouraging. Is it the ego-stroking? That was the problem, wasn’t it? I tried to woo you as they’d explained because they anticipated I was inquiring about a woman. I’m disappointed in myself for not having thought that one through as much--”

“Loki, please shut up.” To my surprise, he complies and simply watches me curiously, almost eager to hear what I have to say. That’s uncomfortable. He’s too attentive, and I just meant for him to shut up. He’s expecting a follow-up and I don’t have one. “You must’ve placed a good deal of trust in me to give me this amulet with the anticipation that I might use it on you.”

“I didn’t have to _answer_ every question you asked, Stephen, only to speak truthfully on the questions I _did_ choose to engage. That much power over a God of Mischief seems a little excessive when you hadn’t even agreed to go on a date with me. I’ve been pouring my heart out to you here and you’re still dragging me along.”

“Don’t be a drama queen--”

“Have you _met_ me?”

“Can we please return to the you shutting up part?”

“Agree to a date with me, and I’ll give you all the time you like to think to yourself tonight.” He looks perfectly cheerful - proud of himself, even - and I’m at a loss for how to respond to his proposition. A date. He wants a date.

“ _A_ date. That’s all?” I definitely need to think without him here at this point. Every word he speaks makes my head hurt all the more.

“No one’s stopping you from saying no.”

He’s right. The problem is that I haven’t said no this entire time. I’m not certain I _want_ to say no. “A date then. When? Where?” If it’s just a date he wants, at this point I’m inclined to see what he’s up to. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but he’s gone to some clear lengths to prove his sincerity and the least I can do is give him a chance.

“Really? Tomorrow! I’ll pick you up!”

“I asked where, not where to meet. The last time I was invited somewhere without being told where ahead of time, I wasn’t a fan of the surprise.”

“Can we… compromise? That’s what _reasonable_ people do, right?” Loki taps his cheek now, looking thoughtful while I sigh to myself. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you where, but it wouldn’t make any sense if I did, anyway!” His attempt to defend himself puts a small smile on my face. It’s cute. He’s eager and excited, and if I consider his words and intentions sincere there’s a very different light to the situation and his actions.

“So I’ll assume this isn’t a dinner date, then.” His look of disgust is worth it, and I can feel the smile tugging further across my face.

“I’m not an idiot, Stephen, I know I only get one real chance to impress you and I have to do it exactly right because… people like me don’t get second chances.” There’s a smile on his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes before a shrug washes the expression away. “I want to get this right. So if you want to stay in, I’ll do my best to make that interesting.”

“Have you considered that you don’t _have_ to make things interesting? Have you considered that you, by your very nature, are interesting enough?” I should have considered those words more carefully, the light in his eyes flickers differently now, there’s surprise - delight even - and I know why. I know I mean the words, and I may very well even mean them the way he thinks I mean them, but I don’t want to give him any more hope for whatever this is than he already has.

“Right. So, I’ll be here around noon tomorrow and we’ll decide what to do then, alright? I believe I made a promise to give you _all_ night to your thoughts and leave if you agreed to a date. Would be a terrible precedent to set if I didn’t follow through.” His smile is radiant and I’m at a loss once again. He gives a little bow before skipping towards the door in a strange display of giddiness. “Good night, Stephen! Sweet dreams!”

“Good night, Loki.” He shoots me a quick smile over his shoulder as he closes the door behind himself, and finally I’m given a moment of reprieve. A moment to think. All I find myself doing is collapsing into a chair, and burying my face into my hands, however. I have no idea what I’m in for tomorrow, and I have only hours realistically until this date is supposed to take place.

Looking at the amulet dangling from my fingers, I’m finding myself weighing my various options and somehow always returning to the same conclusion: if I bring a truth charm, it will change nothing. I will trust Loki no better than I did to begin with, which would make this whole ordeal a pointless waste of time. But no matter how I look at it, if I don’t bring _Älska_ with me it sends the message that I’m interested in _trying_ to trust him… and I am. I’m just not certain whether I can _risk_ doing that.

There are times I wonder if I’m the only one who understands what it means to be frightened of Loki’s capabilities from an entirely human perspective. There was a time I witnessed his capabilities first hand - I’d been studying in New York at the time of his attack on the city. I wasn’t standing amidst Gods or Heroes, not of that caliber. I was no war veteran. But I was surrounded by those who were his victims, in hospital, with wounds from unknown weaponry, as terrified as I by the monsters in the sky - and I tried to drink away those memories, but there are certain things one cannot simply _unsee_.

I like to think I became less afraid after my confrontation with Dormammu - certainly less afraid of the prospect of death, but also less afraid of my own ability to exist in a world that is much larger than anything I thought was fact as a young adult. That ignores the fact that I had a contingency plan at that point - and using Time as a contingency for a date definitely comes off self-serving in more than one way. So to what degree _am_ I willing to trust Loki?


	2. Chapter 2

**ʟօӄɨ,**

Ֆքǟƈɛ

 

 

“Loki, you’ve been pacing that same spot for over an hour.”

Have I? I hadn’t realized so much time had passed, and my eyes turn to Thor as I blink a couple of times. “Have you been standing there the whole time?”

“No, of course not. I came by earlier and you seemed deep in thought. I came to see if you were less so now, but you hadn’t changed. I’m concerned.” He looks it, too. There’s a weird expression on his face, where is nose is kinda wrinkled and his brows are creased, but he’s clearly trying to avoid creasing them enough to make it obvious. He’s treading lightly, but it’s clear he’s worried _for_ me rather than _about_ me this time. It’s refreshing that Thor is so much easier to read than Stephen, right now I need to feel like I have _some_ idea of what’s going on. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with Doctor Strange?”

“Oh! Oh is that why you’re… well! We have a date tomorrow!” There’s no real point in hiding it from Thor at this point, though, and the smile plastered across my face is absolutely genuine. “But I have no idea what to do, now! I’d had a whole plan, but he basically outright nixed it because he isn’t okay with a surprise.”

“Let’s be honest, Loki, we _all_ know why he would make that decision, and he proves ever wiser for it.”

“ _Thanks_ brother, you’re ever so reassuring.” I have good ideas. I have lots of good ideas. It’s not my fault everyone overreacts and assumes I’m up to no good - I am what I am. Mischief itself isn’t inherently evil but trying to convince anyone of that is proving ever more of a frustration of late, and I’m trying my best not to be disheartened by it. “Look I need help here. He said to consider that I am, by my nature, interesting enough and don’t have to make things interesting. But I mean, if I’m boring then--”

“Brother, have you had tea?” My train of thought comes crashing to a halt as I stare at him.

“What? Of course I’ve had tea, what kind of question is that? How is that at all relevant?”

“I’ve been told by a reliable source that he enjoys it,” Thor smiles a bit, waving a hand as an indicator for me to follow him, and I’m surprised enough to hear him out. “You should have told me you liked the Doctor, Loki. _Älska_ you called it, hm? Imbued with magic from Yggdrasil? If you’re trying to use some kind of magic to make him love you, you ought to know that it will leave you unsatisfied with the outcome.”

“Thor Odinson, how _dare_ you?” I can feel my temper rising, but his look of confusion reminds me that I don’t exactly come from the best place to be offended by the accusation. I can feel my nostrils flaring still as I take a couple of deep breaths to collect myself.

“ _Älska_ has a truth spell woven into it. It was meant to be used on me so that we could skip the pesky ‘what are you up to, Loki?’ nonsense.” It’s a shame it hadn’t gone that way, exactly, but as I keep hearing… I can only expect so much. “Where _are_ we going, by the way?”

“The kitchens. Let’s find a nice tea for you to share with the good Doctor. Sit with him, have a cup of tea and converse, relax in a place that he is familiar with and comfortable. Where he feels safe.” I’m staring at the sickeningly sweet smile on Thor’s face, feeling the anger melt away entirely, and I hate that I’m losing the battle against returning his smile. His idea is… thoughtful. He’s being considerate of the fact that Stephen is expecting some kind of trickery from me.

“So are you going to tell me what it is about Stephen Strange that you’re so… _interested_ in…?” And as he walks towards the kitchens, I can only imagine the look on his face as he says the word ‘interested’. He’s pretending to be passingly curious, but it’s eating him alive trying to figure it out and not knowing. I grin a bit at his back as I follow after him, strangely pleased by this unexpected turn of events. It’s been a long while since we had a heart to heart about romances - and longer still since we spoke about _my_ affections.

“Oh Thor, you can’t pretend like you don’t already have _some_ idea, surely? Magic basically radiates off of him! He’s confident, borderline cocky, clever and with a dry wit…”

“Loki, there are many people like that. None of which you have deigned of enough interest to warrant a trinket such as _Älska_. And the way you keep talking about him… this isn’t just a physical thing, is it?”

“You’re surprisingly observant at times, you know that?” Alright, time to practice, Loki, time for deep breaths. “I think I… love him. I literally have not had a dream in a month that wasn’t plagued with his presence, for better or for worse.” Well, that was uncomfortable to admit. Payback time. “Don’t mistake me, I’d happily tear the robes off of him and--”

“Okay! Well, that was a nice talk. So yes. Very good. Read the message loud and clear.” Mission success.

“I’ve gotten to do my crazed confessions already today, Thor, I’d really love if for now I can avoid yearning and focus on the date tomorrow in the hopes that yearning isn’t all I do. So can we talk about this tea thing? You’ve dated a Midgardian - _two_ now? Hmmm?” Thor’s closeness with Bruce will not go unremarked upon while I’m feeling awkward; if I have to squirm, so should Thor. And he does at least do me the honour of looking flustered amidst his delight at my words. “Look if I ever get that sappy, please end me on the spot. I don’t know that I could bear to live with myself exuding such sweetness.”

“Well, I should say you’re being plenty sweet yourself, already, dear brother. You went to considerable lengths to even get the Doctor to take you seriously, and now you’ve got all this concern over being too… boring, was it?” He’s standing in the kitchen doorway now, looking at me and waiting for a few people to pass in the hall before he continues. “There is _nothing_ boring about you, Loki. You don’t need to _try_ to make things exciting, you tend to make them exciting enough without trying. So be yourself.”

“I’m to win him over with my charming personality?” Of course. That’s exactly the kind of advice my brother would give. “Bring him tea and cake, chat about… magic, the world, the universe?”

“Or yourself? Let him get to know you a bit? Isn’t that what you want? Strange is a decent man, an _intellectual_ man, cater to that. He’s agreed to a date, so he’s expressing at least interest in _getting_ to know you.”

I don’t know why Thor’s words have warmed my heart, but they have. I expect it has something to do with the fact that his tone and words indicate some approval of my choice - and this is the only time I can recall him having granted it. Of course, my choices haven’t always been stellar… so hopefully Thor’s approval bodes well. “I want to know him.” I concede quietly, before smiling a bit to Thor. “You know, you’re much more clever with less hair, brother. Tea and cake… and getting to know one another. I’ve got some preparing to do, it seems.”

 

**ռօօռ,**

ֆǟռƈȶʊʍ ֆǟռƈȶօʀʊʍ

 

It took a good few hours to get ready. Thor might’ve been content with just bringing a few bags of tea, but not me. Not a chance. I don’t like being terribly idle for long and filling in a bunch of time with the possibility of awkward conversation just isn’t my style.

Besides, the extravagance of bringing a wide variety of foreign flowers and herbs in a giant bundle to the front door of the Sanctum Sanctorum is absolutely worth Stephen’s bewildered expression, and I’m grinning widely, finding myself rather unable to do anything else. “What is all of this?” He’s at least taken the opportunity to step aside and let me in of his own accord this time and I promptly seek a place to put the bundle down.

“Ah, I thought it would be a lovely idea if we stayed in and made some tea,” I explain as I pull a couple of sprigs from my hair. Apparently they got caught there - I ought to have put my hair in a ponytail, but I didn’t think that would be particularly distinguished of me, and…

“ _Make_ tea…?” Oh, good, he caught on quickly. “That’s… okay, but what _is_ all of this?” Or not?

“Tea making supplies. You know, making tea, like take petals and leafs and herbs and mixing them all up together into packets, and then brewing us our very own, homemade tea.” I’m quite proud of myself, to be honest. An activity to do together, to talk over! And in the end an exciting cup of… okay _potentially_ an exciting cup of tea.

“I’ve never seen any flowers like these…” Oh! Oh, his confusion makes a good deal more sense all of a sudden, and I can’t help but pick out a couple of them.

“Well, I’m not much one for flowers to tell you the truth. Not unless they’re useful for something. This is some of what remains of the Gardens of Asgard… But some of these _are_ delicious!” I hadn’t considered that Stephen’s confusion would come from these being some of the last of the plants of Asgard. According to an unfamiliar Asgardian who had agreed to man the hydroponics area they’d “already seeded” and thus wouldn’t be detrimental to pick. “I’m sure there are a few things we have that are familiar to you, but none of them are very good for tea. Mistletoe, for instance.” I wonder at whether Stephen knows any of the tales about mistletoe or if the joke is lost, but I’m pleased with myself regardless.

“They’re lovely… I wonder…” Yeah the joke was lost on him entirely. I didn’t expect Stephen had an interest in flowers, and yet he’s examining them quite thoroughly at the moment. And moreover he’s talking to himself. I can always tell when someone’s talking to themselves, you know - they do this annoying thing where they trail off half way through a thought.

“For one thing, the purple ones there are cornflower, and they’re used as an antivenom, commonly enough. It’s a little bitter, but sometimes tea needs a bitter note.” The fact that he’s interested in the plants is a good sign, though, isn’t it? I’ve managed to do something to pique his curiosity.

“Yes, I thought it looked familiar. In fact I’m surprised at how many of these _do_ look familiar. Chamomile, “ he sets it aside, rubbing the leaf of something between his fingers before sniffing at it and smiling, “peppermint, hibiscus - on Asgard, you say?” He looks curious for a moment as he cups the blossoms gently, though there’s a tremor to his hand. How odd. I didn’t notice that before… I hadn’t really been able to see him with the plants in my face, though, either. The Stephen who stands in front of me looks considerably different from the man I’d met on other occasions, and I find myself smiling to myself.

“We probably traded with the Egyptians at some point.” I don’t get involved in those kinds of events, and my attention isn’t on recollecting at the moment. The weather is warm enough, but he wears a nicely fitted button up shirt with a subtle pattern hidden in it - the light seems to catch the pattern every so often and remind me the shirt is not, in fact, a solid dark blue. “You dressed nicely. I brought all this figuring you wanted to stay in; were you planning on our going out?”

“To be honest, Loki, I was going to see what you had in mind,” the Sorcerer puts the flower down and smiles, just a little, in my direction. “And you dressed rather well to be staying in.” There’s a smirk that settles on his lips that tells me he knows full well that I dressed to impress him, and I simply shrug at him with a smirk of my own.

“Hey, I can change what I appear to be wearing whenever I like, perks of being a master of illusions.” Okay maybe I’m boasting a little. It’s not as though I didn’t pick out this outfit quite specifically. It fits nicely, I think. I’m going to hazard the guess that he thinks so, too, based on how his eyes move when I brush lightly at something on my pant leg. “Shall we get to the tea making thing? I figure there’s enough here that we can probably sit and taste test some flowers and leaves if we’re not familiar with them.”

“You mean for us to sit here and munch on flowers in the Sanctum to try and figure out how to make a decent tea today? Is that the whole plan?” There’s a playful smile on Stephen’s features, but that doesn’t keep the wind from disappearing from my sails entirely, though I’m maintaining a smile.

“I figured we’d play it by ear after that. You know, see how it all goes.” I’m trying to play this off, but there’s a certain tense feeling in my chest. It had been only a short time to plan this, and I’ve never been very good at stripping things I’m passionate about to bare bones, so all of this has left me feeling strangely exposed.

“Delightful. Before we get started, then, I’ve got a dinner reservation to make.” For a moment I’m confused, and then he smiles at me. “Unless you expect we should order in? You  _can_ behave yourself in public, right?”

“I-I’m not some _animal_ Strange!” Still, I can’t find myself too indignant as I’d been expecting to be kicked out well before dinner, and here he is extending my stay of his own accord. That’s rather delightful. “Of course I can behave in public. But if you’re interested in staying in and getting to know each other better, I’m not going to be the person to suggest we go out into the chaos of the world. My brother might be snooping.”

I earn a laugh and I swear the sound lights up the room. I’m desperately fighting letting my smile get out of control, but I feel no less like I’ve won some kind of reward by making him laugh. Also? There really is a real possibility that Thor is poking his nose where it doesn’t belong and I’d much rather not have to think about it. That’s why I tried to suggest to Bruce that he ought to do something with Thor for the day but naturally he thought I was up to something. So we’ll see how that pans out.

“Alright, well, let’s order something and see about making tea after, hm?” His smile really is gorgeous, damn him. “Should we order something for Thor as well?”

“If he shows up here, I promise the only thing I’ll have for him is utmost disdain.”


	3. Chapter 3

**ֆȶɛքɦɛռ ֆȶʀǟռɢɛ,**

ֆǟռƈȶʊʍ ֆǟռƈȶօʀʊʍ

 

It’s been hours since he arrived and for the first time in memory, I’m feeling nearly at ease in his presence. There’s a child-like excitability about him as he’s been delving into the tea-making, and he’s been more enthusiastic about conversation than I could have expected. There’s a part of me that wonders if Loki’s ever felt like he could speak so frankly about himself before with the way he’s been opening up, and based on what he’s been saying it hasn’t seemed so.

“Thor’s always been picking fights, though,” there’s an admiration in the way he talks about Thor that reminds me of my siblings, “and I’ve been cleaning up his messes since we were small.” He sips at his tea before looking up. “Do you have any siblings? I never did ask."  
  
“How is it you know about Dormammu but so little else?” It’s been on my mind, for certain, and he seems pleased enough with the question, a wry grin crossing his face.

“Stephen Strange, what happened to Dormammu is a tale told among the sorcerers of the universe - you think we wouldn’t know about the exploits of the Sorcerer Supreme? You _do_ understand your role in magical society, I hope!” I’m not certain if he’s trying to flatter me, but he’s hit a sensitive subject and I can’t return the man’s cheer. “But you’re known for your prowess and accomplishments on a magical scale, and your family is not that by any accounts I’ve found.”  
  
“You went digging, did you?” I set my tea down on the saucer and watch Loki carefully. “And yet you found nothing. But you wish to know?” Talking about my siblings with Loki isn’t exactly what I had in mind today, but before I can say as much Loki gives a light shrug.

“It doesn’t have to be today. But I’d like to get to know _you_ Stephen Strange not simply tales of you; for all I love stories of the realms, _you_ are who I’m interested in and I think we both know that the moment something’s become a story told by an outsider, the truth of what transpired changes.” I can’t say I expected to hear that kind of insight from Loki, and I sigh to myself.

“You’re really asking for it, you know?” My eyes slowly close, and I fold my hands together into my lap. “I had two siblings, Donna and Victor, but I am the last Strange. All of it was out of my control.” It seems only right to let him know precisely what kind of wall he has to deal with if he wants to pursue anything with me, romantic or platonic. Given the circumstances, it feels odd that he asked about them in specific.

“There was an attack, you see. Aliens rained down from the sky in waves,” he sits up a bit straighter, and even from my peripherals I can see him swallow hard; he knows what I’m talking about. “They’d been in town to visit me, but I had been attending to my studies at one of the hospitals when it happened. I couldn’t have gotten to them in time if I tried, it seems. Donna’s phone had videos of Stark Tower when the sky opened up… It took years before I could watch them. Not until after facing Dormammu."  
  
“Stephen--” My hand raises, and Loki falls quiet again as I look at him.

“Don’t apologize. Given what I’ve learned about the world in that time, and the things we’ve both endured in that time... while I imagine you’re perfectly capable of doing that kind of thing again, I also have the feeling you’re not that same person. You are not what you were yesterday. What might you be tomorrow?”

“Is… are you forgiving me?” He looks confused, and in some ways I feel as conflicted as he looks confused. This is a complicated array of emotions to sort through, and I'm doing my best to process a little at a time.

Risk isn't something I have much of a taste for, but there are certain things that I’ve been known to gravitate towards that mean risk is a certainty. Power, for instance, always comes with a threat of danger. The more power one has or protects, the more danger one is surrounded by, and while type of danger may vary it’s often reflective of the power you hold. As Sorcerer Supreme, I already contend with a variety of physical and mental dangers. At times even emotional.

There’s a certain amount of power gained and forfeit in dating Loki. “I would not be who I am today if it weren’t for what happened to them. If Donna and Victor were still alive today, I don’t know if I would be the Sorcerer Supreme. _Everything_ would be different.” But there are risks, as well, and I’m not certain the good outweighs the bad. “That doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, not in whole. Not the way I’d need to for us to pursue a relationship like the one you’re implying.” The trouble is, I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter. He fascinates me.

 _Fascinated_ … that’s the word Thor used to describe what he expected Loki felt for me, isn’t it? And see how that’s turned out. Loki sits silently, watching me from his seat with the tea and saucer in his lap with a defeated expression. “I see. I suppose it’s my great fortune to even be allowed in your presence.” His tone is oddly listless and he hasn’t met my eyes in a while, and they drop to look at the china he holds before he sets them on the table beside his chair. He’s recovered like whiplash as he stands with a grin, though something’s definitely different about him now. His body language is more posed, more presentation than emotion. “I suppose I’ve wasted both of our time long enough, then, hm? What fun this has all been.”

“Loki,” I find myself standing in turn, “is that it?”

“To be honest with you, Stephen, if you’d killed Thor and I’d known… you’d be a dead man. If it cost my life, I would have rained down all the vengeance of Asgard on you.” I somehow doubt that of the Loki who stands in front of me now, his demeanor aloof in contrast to the hurt in his eyes. He’s making it fairly clear that he’s intending to leave, and I’m rather surprised that _this_ is the hill he’s choosing to quit on.

“Of course. After what you’ve been through with him, I hardly expected less,” but his dignity needs to be maintained. If he’s already decided this is over and he can’t overcome his guilt, then we may well be at an impasse. “I can’t fix us both, Loki. The only one who can help me forgive you is you. The only one who can prove you’ve changed is you.”

“Sadly, Doctor, anyone who knows me can tell you that to know me is to mistrust me,” his arms cross and he offers a bitter smile. “My sins will always be present in the shadows that I cast, and I cast a shadow in every room I enter. The past doesn’t simply go away and this is yet another example of exactly that.” He turns away and I can only imagine what kind of hurt he’s trying to conceal.

I don’t know if my presence is welcome, but it only takes a moment for the Cloak of Levitation to wrap around him, offering the hug I’m not certain I can. He laughs a little, though the laughter seems off. “Why… are _you_ consoling _me_?”

“I’ve had years to come to terms with what happened. Something tells me there are things _you_ still haven’t given yourself a chance to heal from…” The wounds on his soul are suddenly so glaringly apparent, with his back turned to me and his body slouched enough that he seems as though he’s smaller than I am. There’s an aura he wears around him, not a magical one, but an emotional one that’s bleeding him. I’m not that kind of doctor - and there are no sutures for injuries like that.

The Cloak continues to offer its silent hug, and when he doesn’t reject it I take a few steps forward and hesitate only briefly before wrapping my arms around the taller man. Right now that’s all he is, a very sad, very lost man whose past has caught up with him - a familiar place. “I do not need a doctor for my woes, Stephen,” I hear him mumble, and in his tone are traces of irritation and I suspect embarrassment.

“Are you certain?” I’m surprised at myself. I don’t want him to give up - I don’t know if it’s stringing him along to ask him to try and figure this out, either, without being able to make any promises about the future. “I suspect a doctor could aid you more than you think. But I’m not offering a hug as a doctor, Loki, I’m offering it as a friend.”

“A _friend_.” I don’t know how to interpret his tone and whatever he means by his statement is mostly lost on me, entirely as he planned I imagine. Still, with all of his skill and natural strength, if he didn’t want me hugging him, I certainly wouldn’t be - and he hasn’t made any indication that he intends to move - so for a moment we simply stand there as I consider what he said.

“I can’t promise you anything more. I’d rather not make false promises with that kind of weight.” My arms don’t move from around him and there’s a quiet in the room. I don’t know if he’s expecting me to say something more, I don’t have much more to say, but I take a deep breath anyway. “Will you sit, at least? The intention was that we have dinner…”  
  
As my arms slowly release from around him he turns to face me, the Cloak not bothering to move itself more than to flutter a little with his movement. Green eyes settle on me again and I know he’s searching for something that he can’t find. He wants certainty of some sort, and there’s only one thing I can think to do. “Please sit. I have an idea…”

My feet know where I’m going; the truth is the only certainty I can give him. I can’t stop him from leaving, I can’t make a decision for him, and I won’t make promises that I can’t keep to someone like Loki. Taking _Älska_ in hand, I make my way back down the stairs and find myself a little disappointed when I can’t see the Trickster, my hand curling a little more around the amulet until a small flash of red catches my eye. He’s looking at books. He hasn’t sat down, but he hasn’t left, either.

“Loki. Here.” He glances in my direction and I offer him the amulet. His face is for a moment unreadable, but the way the Cloak wraps around him, I can only imagine he’s misunderstood. “... Take it. Ask me if I want to give this a shot. The truth isn’t as terrifying as you seem to think it is.”

The Cloak finally lifts from his shoulders as Loki looks quietly at the amulet before taking a few steps forward, long fingers reaching forward to curl around the amulet itself, the muscles in his face fixed in a way that shows how tense he is. He won’t even look at me properly - that’s going to take some time to work through if he even accepts this gesture. “Stephen, what do you want…?” His question, broader and simpler than my suggestion, felt a little heavy on my chest for the magic behind it, but I can’t say it’s uncomfortable, just a little warm.

“I want you to learn to forgive yourself. You’ve suffered. I know what it means to make mistakes, and I know sometimes you need help being guided on the right path, especially when it feels like everyone else has forsaken you. I want to know if I could learn to love you, because frankly… you fascinate me.”

His expression changes slowly as I continue to speak, his eyes finally raising to look at me in sharp focus, his muscles softening a little bit, before becoming something that looks more familiar on his face - playfulness. His lips twist a little, his eyes light up a little and while I know this won’t be the end of this conversation, he seems content with that, releasing _Älska_ and returning to take his seat. “I can work with fascination. That’s as good a starting ground as any, I suppose.”

The little flutter in my chest as he agrees to stay, however? It’s starting to tell me it might be a crush.

 

**ɛռɖ**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might become part of a series of linked stories of the two of them coping with their issues and exploring their potential future. But I have a few other projects I need to work on/finish first. I hope you enjoyed this story, and thank you for coming!


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